The following piece was inspired by a recent trip to Cape Cod.
A woman sits in a weathered, wooden chair. She wears a worn straw hat and is bundled in a blanket. Her pants have been rolled up to her knees and her feet are two mounds of sand. Her face wears a look of contentment as well as contemplation. She is absorbed in thought, unaware that I am watching. For the woman, this moment is hers; separate from all moments past and future. It is shared with the rising tide, squawking gulls, and an ancient wind. I am an intruder; with no right to be here, yet I am mesmerized by the simplicity of this scene.
The woman looks so serene and wise. She cocks her head, lovingly cradling it in the palm of her hand. She listens. Listens patently to the waves. If she waits long enough they will answer the questions that lay deep within her heart. The sea is sympathetic to her trials and soothes her with its rhythmic and hypnotic voice.
The following piece was inspired by a recent trip to Cape Cod.
A woman sits in a weathered, wooden chair. She wears a worn straw hat and is bundled in a blanket. Her pants have been rolled up to her knees and her feet are two mounds of sand. Her face wears a look of contentment as well as contemplation. She is absorbed in thought, unaware that I am watching. For the woman, this moment is hers; separate from all moments past and future. It is shared with the rising tide, squawking gulls, and an ancient wind. I am an intruder; with no right to be here, yet I am mesmerized by the simplicity of this scene.
The woman looks so serene and wise. She cocks her head, lovingly cradling it in the palm of her hand. She listens. Listens patently to the waves. If she waits long enough they will answer the questions that lay deep within her heart. The sea is sympathetic to her trials and soothes her with its rhythmic and hypnotic voice.